


Wore My Heart on Your Sleeve

by aintyouafraid



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintyouafraid/pseuds/aintyouafraid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time that Sidney wears Geno's clothes, it's an accident. The second and third and every time after that? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wore My Heart on Your Sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> So I lost the prompt, but somewhere on LJ someone asked for Sidney stealing Geno's clothes and Geno finding out and being devastated about it and like five months later I ended up thinking about it and then this happened.
> 
> First fic in this fandom and totally un-beta'd so if anyone would like to/knows how to find someone in this fandom to beta in the future, please let me know!
> 
> EDIT: You can also now find me at aintyouafraid on tumblr! I am trying to get back into writing after a hectic year and am open to prompts over there!

The first time that Sidney wears Geno's clothes, it’s an accident.

Flower, the bastard, somehow managed to get into his room after he went to bed but before his alarm went off in the morning and stole his bag. He’s reduced to standing in the middle of the room, wearing only a threadbare pair of boxer briefs, and glaring at the door while he contemplates:

A) How to get from his hotel room to Fleury’s room at the other end of the hall without anyone seeing him

B) What to actually do because there is no way that he can pull getting his clothes back off without someone seeing him virtually naked, especially since he thinks that the team might not have the entire hall to themselves this time

C) Why hockey players (or at least this group of hockey players) feel like pranking each other – not to mention Sidney, who is known for despising the practice if it in any way involves him – is an acceptable way to bond

Sidney is still standing at the foot of the bed, caught in the small awkward place between it and the dresser with his arms crossed over his chest because outside of his cocoon of warm blankets, this hotel room is freezing, when he hears someone knocking on his door.

“Sid okay?” Geno mutters through the thick wood, voice still low and raspy with sleep. He probably didn’t wake up more than ten minutes ago. “Usually out room by now telling everyone wake up, but not see when I come out. Something wrong?”

Jolted out of his mutinous survey of the door, Sidney darts over to it and pulls the handle until there’s just enough space so that he can talk to Geno more easily. The other man looks about as concerned as Sidney thought he sounded so Sid hastily squeaks “I’m fine!” before Geno can think of pushing the door open further to look for a source of his strange behavior. “But, uh, could you, maybe, do something for me?”

Glancing intently at him and obviously only marginally less confused, Geno slowly bobs his head once. When Sidney doesn’t immediately continue, he nods again more quickly and motions for him to continue.

“Flower took my bag sometime last night or this morning, I’m not really sure which, but anyways I, uh… I don’t really have any clothes?” It comes out sounding like a question even though Sidney is no where near asking Geno to go fetch his bag for him yet. But the Russian seems to understand and cut him off with a raised hand and a curt, “Wait here.” He has that smile on his face like he just made a hilarious joke because he knows that Sidney will not set foot outside of the room without pants. Sid huffs and closes the door soundly, trying to hide his own smile because there is no way Geno could see it without taking it as encouragement.

Sidney tries to distract himself by calculating the amount of time it will take Geno to convince Flower to give him clothes back while the goaltender tries to convince Geno that he really shouldn’t ruin the rest of the team’s fun. He determines that it will take about ten minutes (minimum) before he got his clothes back when there is another knock on his door. Determinedly not going to question his good fortune, Sid opens the door again, and blindly sticks his hand out for his bag, saying a grateful “Thanks, Geno.”

After a few seconds and no familiar worn duffel being placed into his hand, Sidney withdraws his arm slightly to peek through the crack. Geno looks sheepish as he holds out a pile of familiar (but definitely not Sidney’s) clothes in his arms.

“Sorry, Sid. Flower already at breakfast and Coach say last night we have be down by eight. Not have time if I try to go get now, so I brought some mine to wear. Might be little big, but change after skate mean only have to wear for few hours. Okay?”

Not what Sidney expected, but he can roll with it as long as he gets where he needs to be, so he replies with a thoughtless “Yeah.” Geno willfully ignores his discomfort (which has always been one of Sidney’s favorite things about Geno) and shoves the armful of folded clothes at him. Clothes in hand, Sid remembers enough of his manners to say, “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

Mock incredulous, Geno says, “What, and make Sidney Crosby late for breakfast? Throw off whole routine? Sid not handle it well, not play well, fans find out, Pittsburgh hate me.” Geno tries to grin ruefully, but fails as his amusement makes his face light up, smile wide and happy. “I not want that.”

And Sidney can’t restrain himself around Geno either, quirking his lips in response to Geno’s pleased look and completely forgetting his vow to never encourage his teasing. Schooling his face into a more neutral expression, Sid pulls the arm now laden with the rich, soft fabric back into the room, managing not to laugh when he says, “Alright. See you at breakfast.”

“No, I wait here. Clothes too big, cannot be responsible for tripping Sidney Crosby either, even if not my fault you so short.”

“Hey! I am six feet tall!”

Geno actually has the gall to laugh. “No you not. And anyway, I six four. You still look like midget to me even if six feet tall.”

Making a sound somewhere between his usual exasperated huff and a fond sigh, Sidney closes the door and begins pulling on the clothes Geno handed him. He didn’t think that he would ever wear someone else’s clothes after high school when there was a uniform and all of his and Jack’s shirts looked exactly the same and were always getting mixed up. They clothes themselves are nothing fancy, just a pair of slacks and a button down, but the fact that they aren’t his – are _Geno’s_ – makes them different. The pants are well-worn and soft compared to his own and the shirt is made from a different material, silkier than his starched cotton and in a shade of pale blue. Both are obviously too big, just like Geno said they would be: the legs of the pants cover his feet entirely when he puts them on, pooling around his ankles while the shirt hangs midway down his thighs. He has to fight to tuck the extra fabric in, but at least Sid still has his belt, which will hopefully hold everything in place. Rolling the pants three times just to keep them from brushing the ground, Sidney pulls on his shoes and carefully makes his way to the door.

Geno is standing right where he promised, fiddling with his phone until he hears the door open. He glances up at the sound while shoving his cell into his pocket, surveying Sidney quickly before asking “Ready? Need to be down soon.”

Sid pushes the sleeves up more, trying to keep them from totally covering his hands, and misses Geno’s sharp inhale in the rustling of the fabric. “Yeah, let’s go.” As they make their way down the hallway to the elevator, Sidney asks “Will you help me kill Flower after the game?”

He’s marginally offended when Geno laughs at him. “Just like Sid to think of hockey before revenge,” he chuckles and Sidney can’t stay mad after that. Pushing the button for the elevator, Geno says “But yes, I help.”

~*~

Similarly, Sidney doesn’t really mean to keep Geno’s clothes for nearly a week, but he needs to wash them before he gives them back and he doesn’t know what to do with them because they aren’t like his plain cotton and just throwing them into his laundry machine blindly sounds like a good way to totally ruin them. So he resolves to ask Nathalie, but they don’t get back from their road swing until late on Thursday night and there is no use bothering her until morning.

Everything would have been totally fine and normal if not for the idea he gets when he wakes up on Friday morning. He has plenty of clothes, more comfortable t-shirts and sweatpants than the clothes he borrowed from Geno, but all he wants is to wear the shirt with that falls well past his hips and pants that pool around his ankles.

It’s a weird urge, Sidney knows, but he can’t help it as he stands over his suitcase with the silky, rumpled shirt fabric running between his fingers. He recognizes that he should put it down, forget about it until Sunday, but he doesn’t. Instead he compromises with himself and puts on a pair of his own jeans and slips the shirt on over it, relishing in the feel of the long-sleeves brushing his knuckles. He figures that if Geno has waited this long to get the clothes back, then a few more days won’t matter if he decides to wait until his scheduled Sunday dinner at the Lemieuxs’ to ask Nathalie.

Sidney only wears the shirt around the house, lounging around and watching TV all day Friday and changing out of it for Saturday’s practice. He doesn’t bother putting it on Sunday before their game, even if he really, really wants to. It really is a nice shirt, and if he finds the slight smell of Geno’s soap and detergent and cologne comforting, then Sidney isn’t going to admit it to anyone. It just makes him feel less alone in his sparse apartment (which he should have furnished – okay, had his mom and Taylor furnish – since he decided to move out of Mario’s during the lockout), carrying Geno’s scent around with him.

But he still takes it with him to Mario’s the next day after their afternoon game despite his bizarre desire to keep it. Sid says hello to Austin and Alexa who are grudgingly doing their homework on the coffee table in the living room before walking into the kitchen. Lauren and Stephanie are in the kitchen with Nathalie and Sidney contemplates backing out when Stephanie spots him and gestures him in.

“Sid! I haven’t seen you in three months and you look like you’re ready to run away!” She smiles at him, sweet and totally conniving, and she reminds him of Taylor. Which is exactly why he’s scared of her. Both of them are way too intuitive and he does not need her making fun of him for something he hasn’t even figured out yet. And then enlisting Taylor to pester him too. He’s so panicked that he almost misses her “Don’t you want to see me?”

Shifting to hide the shirt further behind his back, Sidney replies, “Of course.” And then because his life sucks and Sidney can never hide anything from them, Lauren suddenly moves away from the counter and lunges to grab the shirt out of his hands, triumphantly pulling it out from where he was attempting to conceal it behind his back.

Once she actually looks at what’s in front of her, Lauren’s expression shifts from victorious to confusion. “Why were you trying to hide a shirt from us, Sid?”

“It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t sure how to wash it.”

Stephanie pipes up then, never one to miss an opportunity to tease Sid. “Well, I’d be embarrassed, too, if I were you. There’s a tag for that. Can’t read small print, Sid?”

He doesn’t mention that he tried that and the tag was actually in Russian, instead saying, “There isn’t one” and praying they don’t check. At Lauren’s doubtful look, Sidney adds “It must have gotten ripped out.”

Nathalie steps in then, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and telling Lauren to hand it over. Sid is about to praise God until she takes hold of it and says “Girls, why don’t you check on your brother and sister? See if they need any help with their homework.” She waits until they’re out of earshot to turn her questioning gaze on him and say “Sidney, this isn’t your shirt.”

“Yes it is!”

He receives a doubtful glance in response but Sid resists the urge to give in and tell her the truth like he usually would. It would be too embarrassing. The faceoff lasts for a full minute before Nathalie sighs and says, “It’s not real silk, so you can put it in the washing machine, hand wash cold only. And lay it out flat to dry.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

“No problem, Sidney.” She hands the shirt back to him, refolded perfectly. “But next time you’ll have to tell me why you’re washing Evgeni’s clothes for him.”

Clutching the fabric between his fingers nervously, Sidney says “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Geno has worn that shirt a thousand times, and besides, the tags were in Russian. Also, even just holding it, I could tell it would be too big for you.” Sidney kind of sputtered and then gaped at her as Nathalie pats him on the shoulder and then returned to cooking. “Could you set the table, sweetheart? Dinner should be ready in a few minutes.”

Sidney did as she said aside from sneaking off to his car in between putting the placemats down and returning for silverware. He puts the shirt in the passenger seat and avoids Nathalie’s sly looks in favor of talking with Austin about his hockey team and relaying news about Taylor to Stephanie.

~*~

Sidney washes the shirt that night and lays it over the counter to dry while he sleeps. He brings it with him to practice to give back to Geno who asks him to go home with him for lunch and video games and Sidney isn’t going to refuse.

It’s a pretty typical day: Geno makes them sandwiches and then chirps at him throughout every single game they play, half the insults in English and half in Russian. The only difference is it ends with Sidney digging the shirt out of his bag and giving it and the pants back to Geno, thanking him once again. Geno waves him off and says it’s no problem and tells Sid to wait there while he puts the clothes away, joking that if Sid were to wait in the kitchen for him to prepare dinner unsupervised “whole house burn down!”

Once Geno’s out of sight, Sidney enacts his small defiance by walking directly toward the kitchen when something distracts him. There’s a sweatshirt draped over the back of one of the chairs in the dining room that makes Sidney’s fingers twitch involuntarily. He wants to take it and it would be so easy to just grab the sweatshirt. He could even pass it off as thinking it was his own if he gets caught. All he’d have to do is say he lost his awhile ago and saw Geno’s when he was over and assumed it must have been his. Sidney has slowly been moving toward the dining room, a fact he only realizes when he feels himself reach out to touch the familiar fabric. He spends a few seconds fingering the sleeves and telling himself that what he’s thinking is so wrong on so many levels. He can’t _steal_ from Geno, even if it is something as innocuous as a Penguins hoodie.

He hears Geno coming down the stairs and hastily grabs the sweatshirt without another thought and stuffs it into his bag. Flinging himself back onto the couch, Sidney tries to look as innocent as possible when Geno comes around the corner. He only glances at Sidney for a second before raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You went into kitchen didn’t you?”

“No!”

“Relax, Sid, is joke. Not actually going to burn house down. Only if you actually tried to cook.”

“I don’t know why everyone thinks I can’t cook. I cook for myself all the time!”

“All groceries things that only require boiling water or turn on oven. Not actually cooking when you open package and stick somewhere. Besides, you let Nathalie cook for you and eat leftovers for as long as can get away with. And now you take advantage of me too!” He laughs. “But it okay, I always make too much food and not know what to do with it, so Sid actually helping, yes?”

Side tries to keep a straight face when he says, “You’re crazy.”

“Not crazy if I’m right. Now come, you sit at counter and talk while I cook.”

~*~

Sid takes off after dinner, trying to as normal as possible while he carts Geno’s sweatshirt off with him. He’s pretty sure that Geno knows something is up by the quizzical look on his face when Sidney was fidgeting near the door throughout their goodbyes. But he doesn’t question him, and Sidney escapes without revealing his secret.

Now that he’s home, however, Sidney doesn’t know what to do. His bag is sitting on his bed, taunting him. In the past thirty minutes, he’s managed to unzip it and that’s it. He keeps thinking that maybe if he doesn’t touch the sweatshirt, he can take it back tomorrow and pretend this never happened.

But Sidney’s also in the habit of getting what he wants, even if it takes years of work, and having this simple thing in front of him and not being able to touch it is driving him insane. So he reaches in and snatches the sweatshirt, quickly pulling it over his head before he can talk himself out of it.

There isn’t much of a difference between Geno’s hoodie and his own. Geno’s is a little larger on Sid, and the sleeves are worn where he undoubtedly chewed on them, but the fabric is the same, no richer or softer than his own clothes. The only thing Sidney really notices is that the sweatshirt smells like Geno, like his cologne and shampoo and toothpaste. He likes the smell, and finds himself absentmindedly smiling into it. Still, it shocks Sidney when he realizes that it was never the shirt itself that he had liked, it was the fact that it was _Geno’s_.

He doesn’t want to think about what that means.

Brushing his teeth with the long sleeves pushed up to his elbows in a mess of fabric is not a very good distraction, but Sid will take it. He climbs into bed later than usual due to his showdown with himself. Lying sprawled out on his back, he tries not to think about how if he turned his head to the side, his face would be buried into the fabric of the hood. After minutes of staring up at the ceiling, Sid gives in and allows himself to breathe in the scent of Geno coming off the sweatshirt and relaxes.

But his ease only lasts a few minutes before he starts to panic again. Sidney is lying awake in his own bed, wearing a sweatshirt he stole from Geno, trying not to think about why he actually wants to wear his teammate’s clothes and mostly failing.

It’s going to be a long night.

~*~

By morning, Sidney has managed to get maybe four hours of sleep. He wakes up groggy and shuffles to the kitchen to make some coffee, slumping on the counter while he waits for the machine to brew and hating his newfound self-awareness.

He likes Geno. More than he should.

They’ve always been different around each other, Sidney can recognize that. Even when Geno spoke no English and they had to communicate in crude pantomimes, they understood each other. Sidney had an easier time talking to Geno in three days than he did with any of the other rookies in three weeks, and most of them actually spoke English. Even when they could hardly communicate, Geno was able to get him to relax and laugh more than anyone else.

And Sid, Sid gives Geno whatever he wants. Geno’s the only one who can convince Sidney into going out when the rest of the team fails and Sid is the one who accompanies Geno to Steelers games one everyone who actually enjoys (and understands) football gets tired of his boisterous exuberance and tendency to shift into angry, rapid-fire Russian after a particularly botched play. He’s broken routine for Geno, letting him walk out last even when Sidney had been doing so since he was five and could actually play on a hockey team. They even have their own ridiculous handshake for God’s sake.

No one has ever managed to integrate themselves into Sidney’s life like Geno has. And it scares him.

Eventually he has able to snap out of his circling thoughts to fill a mug with the steaming coffee. Sid rarely indulges in the stuff, and as he’s taking his first sips, he realizes that the coffee maker is something that he got for Geno after the first night he fell asleep on Sidney’s couch and was totally useless and awful in the morning without it. He was planning on making himself breakfast, but he shuffles to the counter to stew a little more instead, drinking the coffee he bought just for Geno while swimming in the other man’s sweatshirt.

~*~

Just because Sidney has finally recognized his – for lack of a better word – _crush_ on Geno, doesn’t mean that he has to tell anyone. There’s no reason for Sidney not to be able to get over this _thing_ once he’s come to terms with the fact that Geno’s never going to feel the same way about him. Because there is no possible reason for him to when Sidney is so different from Oksana the Russian-version-of-Angelina-Jolie aka the only person Geno’s ever really dated.

Besides, it would probably just make things weird, and Sidney doesn’t want to mess up his friendship with Geno. So Sidney will just keep it to himself even when Geno’s bright smile makes him ache and want to find a way to make him smile like that forever.

The only problem with this plan is that, once he’s actually acknowledged their existence, his feelings for Geno refuse to be willed away. It probably doesn’t help that, three weeks after Geno first lent him his shirt and pants, Sidney is still stealing his clothes.

He returned the hoodie a few days ago after he overheard that Geno had been missing it in the locker room, praying that he (and his feelings) weren’t painfully obvious, but the same night he took one of Geno’s shirts, a t-shirt this time with the Pens logo on the front and a 71 emblazoned on the back, and accidentally (on purpose) snagged a pair of sweatpants with it.

If Sidney was swimming in the tailored shirt and trousers, then he’s absolutely drowning in the looser sweats and worn cotton stretched over his shoulders but draping down to mid-thigh. It’s probably really pathetic how comforting he finds stumbling around his house bundled in soft fabric that smells like Geno’s detergent and shampoo. He’s learned to accept it easily enough, acknowledging that he can’t just will away thoughts of Geno, instead hoping that if he just works through them, he’ll have better luck with them fading to the background. Eventually.

So Sid is totally caught off guard when he hears a knock on the door as he’s going to go fix himself lunch, and the feeling of dread only grows as he hears a key turn in the lock. There are only a few people who have his key (because while he loves his teammates, he is not stupid enough to give most of them free access to his house), and those people are Mario and Nathalie, Flower, Duper, and Geno. And considering that he’s going to the Lemieux’s tomorrow for dinner, Marc has been too busy doting on Estelle whenever they’re in Pittsburgh, and Pascal is very good about calling before he drops by, Sidney a sinking feeling in his gut says that the person opening the door is Geno.

Sidney should run. Maybe if he was fast enough he could get to his room before Geno saw the giant 71 turn the corner. But he’s panicking so much that his feet are rooted to the ground even though his flight response is off the charts. He would probably trip on the hem of the sweats and go crashing to the ground if he tried anyway, which would be at least ten times worse than Geno finding him standing in his kitchen making a sandwich. It’s awful either way, though, and Sidney cannot believe that he has been this stupid, _fuck_.

The front door shuts and footsteps approach the kitchen. Sidney slams his eyes shut and waits, not sure what he’s waiting for, but it isn’t Geno’s gasped “ _Sid_.”

It sounds too soft to be the confusion that he was ready for. Sidney was expecting bafflement and questions that would hurt Sidney to answer because Geno wouldn’t feel the same way Sid did but he deserved to know so Sid would suffer through the explanation and the looks of pity. Geno was far too sweet to be disgusted, at least Sid hoped, but he would be sad and consoling that he couldn’t give this to Sid which would be even worse when he inevitably had to distance himself in the following weeks because knowing Sid felt that way would still change acts of friendship into awkward moments of wondering if Sid thought they were more and God damn it, Sidney needs to stop watching the movies Taylor sends him to laugh with her over but she secretly loves because its messing with his head because his life is not a teen movie, he is a twenty-five-year-old man for God’s sake.

Sidney still hasn’t opened his eyes and his hands are clutching the counter behind him for balance so hard that his knuckles are probably white, so he startles and his knees almost buckle when he feels a hand on his cheek. He flinches back but doesn’t get very far backed up against the counter and with Geno’s other hand coming up to grip the other side of his face.

Geno’s voice is soft and imploring, when he says, “Sid. Sid, look at me.”

Sighing, Sidney reluctantly opens his eyes. He knows that not seeing it wouldn’t make it like it never happened, but it would have made it easier when Geno firmly told him that he could never see Sid like that.

So when Sidney lifts his face slightly to actually look at Geno instead of glaring at their feet, he’s surprised to find that Geno looks absolutely wrecked. His eyes are as wide as Sidney has ever seen them and his mouth is hanging open slightly, but underneath the shock he looks almost – reverent isn’t the right word, but it’s all Sidney can think of to describe the awe on Geno’s face as he takes in what Sidney is wearing.

“God,” Geno finally groans, “you wearing my clothes? _Sid_.”

“I’m sorry.” He figures he might as well start apologizing now because this is out of the realm of normal even for him. “I didn’t mean to! It was just, after you lent me that shirt, I kind of found out I really like wearing your clothes and I get that it is a little weird–”

“No, Sid, not have to be sorry.” Geno smiles, shy and a little conspiratory as he says, “I like way you look in my clothes.”

“–and I will totally wash them and give them back to you – wait, did you just say you like it when I wear your clothes?”

Geno laughs. “Yes, that what I say.”

Sidney pushes down the swell of hope constricting around his heart and chokes out a low, “Why?”

“Sid look good in my clothes, yes?”

“They don’t fit,” Sidney deadpans.

“No,” Geno concedes, and Sidney can see him steeling himself, getting a look not unlike the face he makes when he’s focusing on a faceoff and trying to will the puck to do what he wants. “But I like that – that they obviously not yours.” Geno slides his hands from Sidney’s face to grip at his shoulders. “Make you look like you belong to me.”

“And that’s something you want?”

Geno shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant and mostly failing when he says “If Sid wants” rather hopefully.

Sid immediately says “I want” and doesn’t care that he probably sounds a little desperate because he never thought that this would be an option. “But – you… how long?”

“How long I want?” Sidney nods. “Probably not much longer than Sid. Did a lot of things thinking friend, but probably more entire time. But started figuring out after you take puck to face, get jaw broken.” He lifts one hand to brush his thumb over the junction where Sidney’s jaw meets his neck. It’s still a little tender, but the injury was a few months ago he’s been well enough to play for weeks now. “I was so worried and then I was so happy when you get out of hospital and allowed to go see you. Like a–” Geno frowns, trying to think of the word.

“Rollercoaster?” Sidney prompts.

“Yes, rollercoaster! You were so high on painkillers that you laugh at everything Duper and Nealsy said while we there, and it was good, Sid looked good. Then you come back and I even happier to get to play with Sid again, but I really knew when I see Sid in my clothes. Thought you would have figured out, but you so mad at Flower, didn’t notice me acting strange.”

“So if Flower hadn’t stolen my clothes, we might not have realized what was going on?”

Geno shrugs. “Probably.”

“Well, I guess Flower was kind of helpful for once. But we can never tell him that we kind of owe him for getting our shit together, okay? He’d never let that go.”

“Never,” Geno solemnly agrees. “Can kiss Sid now?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”

Sidney smiles up at Geno, back arching against the counter as he loops his arms around Geno's neck. “Yeah, that sounds like an awesome plan.”

The kiss is gentle, and normally Sidney would protest that he isn't that fragile, but coming from Geno, he can appreciate the consideration. And as the kiss drags on and gets a little dirtier, he can feel Geno tracing his name on Sid's back, and Sidney can't help but smile into the kiss. They'll have to separate eventually, go to practice and get ready for the next game, but for now, Sidney is totally content.


End file.
